The Dangers of Runic Cubes
by Stellatrane
Summary: It hadn't started off this complicated. One minute, he was in his Auror office, fiddling around with the strange runic object they'd recovered from their latest raid, the next he was on board some Muggle base thing and there was an angry man in an eyepatch shouting at him.
1. Chapter 1

It hadn't started off this complicated. One minute, he was in his Auror office, fiddling around with the strange runic object they'd recovered from their latest raid, the next he was on board some Muggle base thing and there was an angry man in an eyepatch shouting at him. Then he'd been seized by some Muggles and manhandled off somewhere, so _of course_ he'd pulled out his wand and tried to stun them all, but then they'd called for backup and everything had gone black shortly after that, and now he was awake, and in some kind of cell, and handcuffed. Harry sighed, tried to run a hand through his hair in frustration, and remembered the manacles a second too late as his free hand whacked him in the face. He groaned, and tried to rearrange himself into a more comfortable position whilst taking an inventory of what he had. No wand – the Muggles must have taken it from him, along with the runic thing he'd still had with him when he arrived. They must've searched his pockets when he was out cold – all he had was his clothes. Of course, he'd only had a few staples with him – Instant Darkness Powder, Decoy Detonators, that sort of thing. Thankfully, the Cloak was still sitting in his desk drawer back home.

Oh God, where the hell even _was_ he?

Think, Potter, put on your Auror head and _think_.

Okay, so the shouty eyepatch man had an American accent. So, America then. There'd been a lot of Muggle technology about, which ruled out the possibility of backwards time travel _and yes, I know,_ he thought at the disparaging voice in his head _, I know it's not likely but it can't hurt to run through every possible scenario, right?_ Maybe he'd just shifted location, onto this freaky Muggle base in the middle of America and maybe, once he explained everything, he could get in touch with the American wizards and some top-grade Obliviators and just get this whole thing straightened out. Maybe.

'Hello?'

The voice from the corner of the room is painfully scratchy, and Harry nearly jumps out of his hardened Auror skin.

'Who's there?'

'Cast a Lumos and you'll see,' returns the voice, harsh and mocking.

Cast a Lumos. They must be magic. All at once, Harry feels hugely relieved. And casting a Lumos is something he can do wandlessly.

'Lumos,' he whispers softly. The light illuminates a figure cowering in the corner, hands over their face.

'Merlin, that's bright,' the voice hisses, and Harry extinguishes the light, feeling a little guilty.

'Sorry,' he says awkwardly.

The person makes a noise that Harry belatedly recognises as a laugh.

'My fault,' they say, 'they like to keep you in the dark here. Literally and figuratively,' they add, and he can hear the amusement in their voice. Her voice, Harry thinks – he's 90% sure now that the person is a woman.

'Who are you?' Harry asks again, softly.

'I could ask you the same thing,' she murmurs, 'and I was here first.'

Harry sighs.

'My name's Harry,' he says, 'and where exactly is here?'

'S.H.I.E.L.D. prison cell,' the woman says promptly and then gasps as if in pain.

'Ahhh,' she breathes, and although it's dark, Harry can imagine the pain on her face all too vividly.

'Are you okay?' he asks, 'can I help?'

'No,' she hisses, 'just... need to remember not to move. I'll live,' she adds grimly.

'Okay,' Harry whispers, for lack of anything better to say, and they sit together in silence, the only sound being the woman's harsh breathing.

'How did you know I could've cast a Lumos?' asks Harry suddenly.

'I thought it was my turn to ask a question,' replies the woman.

'Oh. Sorry.'

'No matter. Why are you here?'

'Um, I'm not really sure,' Harry hesitates, 'I was trying to decipher this runic cube thing we'd picked up on a raid – I'm an Auror,' he adds, not really sure if this woman knows what that is, but feeling like he should mention it anyway, 'and I think it must have activated or something, because the next thing I know I'm on this base, and Muggles are attacking me, and then I must have blacked out because I woke up here.'

The woman lets out a long, low whistle.

'You really don't know where you are, do you?' she asks.

'My turn for questions,' Harry reminds her, and she falls silent.

Harry thinks a bit before framing his question.

'You know where we are,' he states, 'but you're not from round here.'

There is silence form the woman's corner.

'Can you explain why the Muggles are imprisoning us, and where the Wizarding authorities are?'

There is still silence.

Just when Harry is starting to get a little worried, the woman sighs.

'As far as I can work out, this is an alternate dimension,' she says, 'I wouldn't be surprised if we were the only wizard and witch in the world. S.H.I.E.L.D. are like this... secret Muggle police force, I think,' she continues thoughtfully.

'Of course, I don't really know much – I was only out in the world for a couple of weeks before they captured me. They've been trying to get information out of me in any way they can, and they have completely failed.'

'How do you know I'm not planted by them?' Harry felt the need to ask, even though it's not his turn.

'You knew what a Lumos was, and could cast one. Wandless, right? Add that to the fact you mentioned you're an Auror, and I'm pretty sure your surname is Potter, and we have ourselves a bona fide wizard. A Dark Lord slayer, even.' She makes the noise that Harry recognises as a laugh again. He's got to admit, he's pretty impressed with this woman.

'Now, I think I'm long overdue some answers,' she remarks, and Harry feels a little guilty.

'Sorry,' he says. The woman hums a little, a tune he doesn't recognise.

'Who did you see when you arrived here?' she finally asks.

'Um...' Harry casts him mind back.

'There was this angry guy with an eyepatch – he was the first one I saw. Shouted at me a bit, seemed to be the guy in charge.'

'Fury,' murmurs the woman.

'What?'

'That's his name. Nick Fury. Runs this airship thing. What was he shouting at you?'

'Airship?!' squawks Harry.

'My question first,' the woman reminds him.

'Right, yeah, sorry... um, it was something about how he didn't need another bloody teleporter right now, why did everything always have to happen at once, you know, that kind of thing... and then the woman next to him remarked something about a god of chaos and how this was all part of some master plan... it sounded a little crazy to be honest with you. And then he told his minions to throw me in with you.'

'Loki,' the woman breathes.

'Hm? No, not very lucky,' grumbles Harry.

'No, you idiot,' snaps the woman, 'Loki. Norse God of Chaos, remember?'

'Er, no,' Harry feels the need to point out, 'I never took Ancient Runes.'

He can feel the woman's disbelief from across the cell.

'What the hell were you mucking about with a runic cube for, then?' she nearly shouts, and Harry winces.

'It looked cool?' he tries, and the woman snorts in disgust.

' _Men_ ,' she says with feeling, and Harry bites his lip, looking at what he supposes is the floor (but really, it's just a slightly different shade of black).

'So,' he says after a while, his voice sounding loud and uncomfortable after the silence of the past few minutes, 'how are we going to get out?'

'We're not,' says the woman, as if talking to a particularly stupid first year.

Harry blinks.

'Oh. Is someone coming to rescue us?' he asks hopefully, but he already knows the answer.

'No,' says the woman tiredly, 'no, Harry, no one's coming for us.'

'Oh.'

They sit in the dark together for a very long time.

'I still don't know your name,' Harry points out, after what feels like an age.

'Neither do they,' the woman replies, sounding ever so slightly smug.

'Well, I need something to call you,' Harry argues, 'and you seem to know all about me. It's only fair.'

'Gryffindors,' snarls the woman and Harry flinches slightly at the venom in her tone, 'when will you learn that _life isn't fair?_ '

'I just want to know your name!' cries Harry, feeling that there has been a bit of an overreaction.

The woman takes a deep breath, and sighs.

'Daphne,' she murmurs, and Harry has to strain to hear it, 'you can call me Daphne. Now go to sleep, Potter, you'll need all that fabled power of yours come morning.'

0o0

Harry wakes to Daphne shaking him, hard.

'Merlin's sake, Potter, wake up, you sleep like the dead I swear...'

'Wuzzgoinon,' he mumbles, struggling into a sitting position.

'There's a raid on S.H.I.E.L.D.,' Daphne hisses, excitement in her voice, 'Come on, Potter, get your Auror head on, there's a chance we could get out of here!'

Harry blinks, waking up far more quickly now.

'There are lights,' he says stupidly.

'Emergency protocol,' says Daphne, 'I think their normal light-maker isn't working, so they put on the back up and it lights up the whole ship.'

'Right,' says Harry, 'what else do you know?'

'Alarms started going off,' says Daphne, 'I started trying to wake you. The alarms mean attack,' she adds helpfully.

Harry stares her in the harsh light, her eyes screwed up to the point where it's a wonder she can see out of them.

'That's it?'

Daphne sighs, and rocks back on her heels, and then winces and stops.

'Look, Potter, I don't know if it's escaped your notice, but we are in a cell. There's not much I can deduce, other than the blatantly obvious. All I know is that attacks on S.H.I.E.L.D. are ridiculously rare, and I figured we had a decent chance of being able to use it to our advantage.'

Harry continues to stare at her.

'Look, never mind,' she snaps, 'I just thought you might like to know.'

'I, er... thanks?'

Daphne snorts.

'You're welcome, Golden Boy.'

'Greengrass!'

'What?'

'That's your name!' grins Harry excitedly, 'Daphne Greengrass, right? You disappeared about three years back, and I was put on your case!'

It's Daphne's turn to stare at him.

'Merlin,' she says finally, 'I didn't realise I was important enough to have the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Have-Many-Hyphenated-Names himself investigate my disappearance.'

Harry flushes.

'Hmph,' is all he says, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

'Eloquent,' drawls Daphne, raising an eyebrow.

Harry does the super-mature-adult thing of completely ignoring her. She rolls her eyes, and looks ready to make another sarcastic comment when there is an echoing _thud_ on the door, and she freezes.

'Don't. Move.'

Harry freezes too.

There is another sickening bang above the alarms. He can hear people shouting, someone's screaming, a shot that sounds like one of those Muggle guns and a _thwack_ as something hits the door again. Daphne looks about as terrified as Harry feels.

The noises stop. Only the alarm still blares on, searing through his head. He almost misses the soft click of their cell door opening, as the foot-thick metal swings inwards, revealing a tall man with long black hair and slightly weird clothes standing outside, amid a pile of unconscious people.

At least, Harry hopes they're unconscious.

There is silence as the man regards Harry and Daphne, and Harry regards him back. Then—

'Took you long enough,' snarks Daphne in her scratchy voice, rising to her feet with some difficulty. The man instantly moves forward to help her, carefully holding her like she's made of glass. Like she's the most precious thing in the world, and he could break her with a breath.

'I am terribly sorry,' he replies, bowing with just a hint of mockery, a smile twisting his face into something worth looking at, 'I got held up. Terrible traffic, you know.'

Daphne laughs, and the man grins back.

'Shall we?' he asks, offering her his arm, for all the world as if they are in a ballroom rather than a prison cell.

She takes it.

'We shall.'

Harry coughs, feeling awkward. The man looks at him in a way that reminds him of a young Draco Malfoy, sneering and dismissive.

'You'd better come too, Harry,' says Daphne absently, 'we can figure out a way to get you back to your Gryffindor wonderland once we get somewhere safe.'

'Erm, thanks,' says Harry, avoiding the man's gaze and struggling ungainly to his feet. The man curls his lip, and sweeps out, half-carrying Daphne with him, and Harry has to break into a jog to catch up with them. He's got absolutely no clue where they're going – this ship is like a bloody rabbit warren, twisting and turning, with most of it looking fairly destroyed anyway. The man blasts down a door in front of them, and Harry sees rows upon rows of evidence bags.

'Look for your things,' directs the man in his direction, before walking off with Daphne, presumably to get her stuff. The room is in alphabetical order, and much neater than what the Aurors have back at the Ministry, although he supposes that's just because Muggles don't have summoning charms. It takes him a while, but he finds the P's eventually.

His stuff is not there. His name is not there. _Damn_.

'Harry?' comes Daphne's voice from somewhere far away.

'Yeah?' he yells back.

'Come back to the entrance, we've got to get going!'

'I can't find my stuff!' he calls, struggling to hide the note of panic.

'Leave it then! We'll come back later!'

Harry curses under his breath – he knows full well they're not coming back to this ship, that the man wants it to crash to the ground and burn. But he has no choice. There are other voices now, male, shouting orders.

'Harry!' comes Daphne's voice, 'you're going to have to Apparate! Diagon Alley!'

'Wait! Daphne!'

There is no response. Harry closes his eyes and tried for calm. He'll splinch himself if he Apparates in this state. What was it that Ministry official was always muttering on about? Destination, Determination, Deliberation... Harry takes a deep breath and turns.

Nothing happens.

He tries again, focusing not on the Alley, but on the Muggle street outside the Leaky Cauldron. Deep breath, he reminds himself, don't panic... the voices are getting closer, they'll find him in a minute but don't think about that, just picture the street, got it, good and TURN!

It's 2 in the morning in London. The street outside The Leaky Cauldron is deserted, lamps casting a yellowish glow on the pavement. There is no one around to see when a twenty-something man with messy black hair appears out of nowhere in the middle of the road with a large _crack_ and promptly throws up all over the tarmac.

All in all, it is not the _worst_ day Harry Potter has ever had, but it's getting pretty damn close.

* * *

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first attempt at a crossover like this, so I'd love some feedback, even if it's just to correct a typo! Hope you like it :-)


	2. Chapter 2

Daphne is feeling incredibly woozy. She blames Loki and his freaky travel thing for that. It's better than Apparition, but only just.

'Christ,' she mumbles, and collapses on the floor of the hotel suite they've ended up in.

'Daphne?' asks a hesitant voice.

'Mmm.' God, this is a nice floor.

'Are you alright?'

'Mmm.'

'Daphne.' The voice is more insistent now. It's a nice voice, but right now Daphne just wants it to go away so she can sleep.

' _Daphne_ ,' says Loki for the third time. No response. He taps her shoulder and she mumbles something incomprehensible and curls up into a ball on the hotel carpet. He wonders if he's managed to break her somehow – it really is impossibly easy to do that to humans, they don't seem to realise just how fragile they are. Maybe it's just best to let her sleep. Just for a little while.

She stirs about an hour later, wincing as she comes to and rubbing her neck as she sits up.

'Did I fall asleep on the carpet?' she says, managing to sound both groggy and horrified at the same time.

'Yes,' he replies. She curses.

'Wand,' she orders.

He gives her an I-have-absolutely-no-clue-what-you're-talking-about look and she sighs.

'The stick in my things that you picked up in S.H.I.E.L.D.,' she explains, and his brow clears, bringing out the small bundle of belongings from underneath his robes. She grabs them and rummages through the things. There's not much – various plants and some scruffy notes on parchment, as well as what looks like a quill, wrapped up in a nice-looking navy cloak with some kind of silky lining. Most of this is discarded on the floor in favour of a stick that is only about 11 or 12 inches long, but definitely looks like it has been made, not found. She starts muttering words as she waves it around, and he stares in fascination as the cuts and bruises on her skin heal before his eyes as if they had never been there in the first place. Another few waves cleans and mends her clothes and a final wave (this one a rather vindictive one) sends a small, black device shooting out of her forearm onto the carpet.

'Tracker,' she hisses, healing the wound with a sharp jab, 'I knew it. That's how they found me, all those times I managed to Apparate out...' Her eyes grow wide and she swears.

'What is it?' asks Loki, feeling slightly wrong-footed by this whole thing.

'We need to go,' Daphne says briskly, already gathering her stuff back into a bundle, 'it's a wonder they haven't found us already. How long have I been asleep?'

'An hour, perhaps?'

Daphne swears and holds out her arm.

'Grab hold.'

Loki frowns.

'My way of travelling is far easier, Witch of Midgard.'

'Do you know where we're going?' asks Daphne sweetly.

Loki sneers.

'I have no need of your human directions—'

'Loki. Grab hold of my arm, NOW.'

There is steel in her tone, and Loki swallows his objections, and takes her arm. What follows is possibly the most unpleasant journey he has ever experienced. It's like being squeezed through a small tube and when they arrive at wherever it is Daphne has taken them, he feels rather ill, as if some of his insides are still in a cheap American hotel instead of...

'Where are we now?' he snaps, breath fogging in the night air.

'Just outside Diagon Alley,' Daphne replies, and waves her wand, making glowing numbers appear in the air next to her.

'And it's 3.08 in the morning. Fabulous,' she says briskly, 'S.H.I.E.L.D. shouldn't be able to follow us here. Now we just have to pick up Harry.'

'Who is this Harry?' enquires Loki, just managing not to sneer again, 'and _why_ is he so important to you?'

Daphne looks momentarily surprised, and then pensive.

'He's a wizard, from my world,' she says, 'he's a hero back there. I don't really know him that well – we went to school together but we... moved in different circles. I guess I just feel a little responsible for him,' and she shrugs, 'I mean, I was the one who told him to Apparate off, and he hasn't got his wand or anything...' she trails off and purses her lips, thinking.

'He should be here,' she murmurs, eyes flicking around the deserted street, 'we're only an hour late... Oh. Oh, no.' she turns to Loki, eyes wide.

'Trackers.'

Loki looks a little blank.

'They fitted him with a tracker,' Daphne elaborates, 'and because we didn't get to him in time, and he hasn't got a wand...'

'S.H.I.E.L.D. have him,' Loki finishes.

'Again,' Daphne groans.

oOo

Harry, meanwhile, is having an absolutely terrible time, alone in the middle of Muggle London with nothing but a set of scruffy clothes to his name. Having just reacted to Apparating as if he'd never done it before (and wasn't that humiliating? Ron would've laughed his head off) he's now contemplating the space where The Leaky Cauldron should be with an expression usually reserved for the deathbed of a loved one. He wonders how Daphne will find him now.

Bloody hell, it's been a night. He'll just have to wait here for her, then; hopefully she'll run into the same problem he has, and find the same solution. He hopes she doesn't take long – he feels so useless without a wand, and with no Alley, and no Ollivanders, that's not a problem that's likely to be rectified any time soon. Sitting and waiting is hardly the most heroic thing to be doing, but right now, it's his only option. His hand rubs absentmindedly over his left forearm, itching around a small circular wound. He frowns down at it. He doesn't remember getting that in the raid – it must have been here, he must have caught something when he fell, or when he was in the cell... He sighs, and finds a nice, secluded little alcove to wait for Daphne in.

It's about half an hour later when some people finally show up. A quick glance shows no sign of Daphne's dirty blonde hair, and Harry sinks a little further into his alcove.

'Tracker says he should be right on top of us,' comes a man's voice from the little group of people, 'proceed carefully, guys – he shouldn't be armed, but God knows these freaky magic people don't need weapons.'

Ah, Muggles. The universe may change, the world may turn upside-down, but Muggles still think he's a freak. Isn't that comforting. Harry tries a wandless Notice-Me-Not charm, just on the off-chance, but he doubts how strong it is. Too dangerous to risk running out, unless... wait, back up, tracker?

Several pieces fall into place, and Harry grits his teeth and starts ripping at the skin on his left forearm. It's painful as hell (or one of Voldemort's Cruciatus Curses) but he manages not to cry out, and eventually unearths a small black chip, and discards it in his alcove. He takes a deep breath and weighs his options. He could stumble out of his alcove, pretending to be Muggle – drunk and rambling, he's done it before – or he Apparate. That would create a lot of noise, but they already know he's here, and his acting skills have always been rudimentary at best, so...

Agent Barton spins round at a large _crack_ from his left. He waves the rest of the team round; the sound seems to have come from an alcove of sorts, and he makes sure they have it completely surrounded before he gives them the nod, and they storm it.

It's empty.

Well, nearly. Barton finds a small, bloody tracking chip on the floor, and tries not to swear, but bloody hell they've lost him, lost one of the freaky magic people who could potentially destroy the world, and Director Fury is yelling in his ear, and he's really not having a good day.

'Target lost, repeat, target lost; fall back, fall back,' he barks through the earpiece, and the small team back off, and head back the way they've come. He sighs, pockets the abandoned tracker, and follows them. Fury'll give him hell for this back at base.

oOo

Barton is right – Fury does give him hell for losing the man. And the woman, and Loki, but technically that wasn't his fault. Natasha turns up halfway through his chewing-out, smirking slightly and dragging a bored-looking Captain America with her.

'The rest are on their way,' she says, before sliding into a seat to continue watching the show, passing a couple of files over to Steve, who flicks through them with eyes that grow wider and wider.

'Wait,' he interrupts, just as Fury's getting really into his stride, 'these people have magic? Like, actual, wand-waving magic? Like Merlin and King Arthur kind of magic?'

Fury glares at him.

'Yes. Any more stupid questions, or can I get back to disciplining the operative who managed to let one of these _incredibly dangerous people go?_ '

His voice has risen to a shout by the end of the sentence (not that it ever started out really quiet), and Natasha winks at him before saying, 'Fire away, Director,' and leaning back in her seat. He shoots her a look that promises retribution, and she ignores him in favour of her nails. She's smiling though, just a little.

Fury finishes his tirade a little before Stark arrives, bringing Banner with him. Thor walks in five minutes later, and spends the first part of the meeting glaring at everyone and stroking his hammer.

Stark is typically optimistic about how easy it will be to take the wizards out.

'Super easy. We find them, we suit up, we take them out.'

'Loki is with them,' reminds Steve, frowning.

'Eh, we've dealt with him before. Plus,' and Stark jerks his thumb at the still-glowering Thor, 'we've got big brother on hand to deal if it gets a bit messy.'

Thor bristles at that, and Steve looks like he wants to argue, but Banner is nodding thoughtfully.

'I'm with Tony on this one,' he says slowly, 'it's two unarmed civilians. I don't think it'll be too hard.'

'No need to bring out the big guy then?' asks Stark, eyes on his (very sleek) laptop, fingers running a mile a minute over the keys.

'Maybe not,' replies Banner with a small smile. Barton can't help but feel a little relieved at the absence of the Hulk, and he's pretty sure Natasha feels the same, although she would never say it.

'I have a different job for you, Banner,' says Fury, 'you're gonna figure out what the hell these things are, and how we can use them.'

The objects he's slammed on the table are a stick, a bag of black powder, some freaky horn thing with legs, and a cube with strange drawings all over it that glows with a faint green light.

'Oooh,' says Stark, glancing over the top of his laptop, 'can I play too?'

oOo

'Arg!' moans Daphne, banging her head softly against a nearby wall, 'why didn't I tell him to go somewhere else? Guatemala or New Zealand or _anywhere_! And why didn't you wake me?' she cries, turning on Loki, who looks ready to shout right back at her, and be a lot more terrifying whilst doing it, when a _crack_ resounds through the air, and a man with messy black hair appears in front of them.

'Harry!' cries Daphne, 'thank Merlin, I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. had you!'

'They nearly did,' mutters Harry grimly, and Daphne sees the wound on his arm.

'Oh my God did you actually rip out your tracker?!' she shrieks, and Harry nods.

'Only way I could get out without them finding me again,' he says, whilst Daphne, pokes the wound lightly with the tip on her wand, 'thanks,' he adds, examining his newly healed arm.

'You made it out alright then?' he asks, gesturing to them both.

Daphne nods.

'You are Harry then?' ask Loki, with the air of one asking after a particularly volatile animal, 'a Wizard of Midgard? One of Daphne's kin?'

Harry blinks.

'Er, yeah, I guess, somewhere down the line,' he mumbles.

Daphne rolls her eyes.

'Potter, this is Loki, Norse God of Chaos. Loki, this is Potter. Both of you, play nice.'

It's Harry's turn to roll his eyes now, whilst Loki looks outraged.

' _Play nice?_ ' he seethes, 'I am a God, Witch of Midgard, Bringer of Chaos, and you dare tell me I must _play nice_ with he who is but a worm to me—'

'Yes, yes, yes,' interrupts Daphne, 'I'm terribly sorry for insulting your ego, now does anyone actually know what we're going to do?'

'From what you've said, I'd guess S.H.I.E.L.D. will be after us,' remarks Harry thoughtfully, 'although we've gotten rid of our trackers, and I can't see them knowing any way to track us from my stuff. I'd say we're pretty safe for the time being. Maybe we should find a hotel or something to hole up in whilst we make more concrete plans, but I'm pretty sure we have at least twelve hours of breathing room.'

'And how, exactly, will we pay for a hotel?' asks Daphne, voice dripping with disbelief, 'with all the oodles of money we have?'

Harry looks at her like she's being deliberately obtuse.

'You're a witch,' he says, like it should be obvious, 'Summon some money. Heck, summon my things while you're at it. You could even cast a Confundus charm. Come on Daphne, engage your brain.'

'Oh, well I'm sorry Mr Auror,' she snaps, 'for not instantly turning to crime to pay my way—'

'I thought we were playing nice?' interjects Loki, with a face of innocence that is even better than the Weasley twins.

Daphne looks like she can't decide whether to laugh or hex him, and in the end settles on an amused sort of huff, before holding up her wand and saying clearly, 'Accio Harry Potter's belongings.'

Five minutes later, they are still standing there. Loki is making ice patterns on a shop window, Harry is slouching and looking grumpy and Daphne is still in the same position.

'Too far away,' says Harry finally, 'the charm won't work.'

'Right,' says Daphne, 'well, let's at least find some money.'

The summoning charm does work this time, and at Harry's suggestion, Daphne duplicates a few hundred copies of a £20 note, shoving them into a hastily conjured bag, before sending the purses back from whence they came, and moving off to try and find a hotel where they can stay.

They don't have to walk that far before they find a fairly decent one, and (with the aid of a subtle Confundus Charm) manage to book three rooms with no questions asked about the lateness of the hour, or the strangeness of their attire.

'Well, I don't know about you two but I am knackered,' says Daphne cheerfully, 'how about getting a few hours of sleep and meeting at breakfast to discuss our master plan? Shall we say nine thirty?'

Harry nods and slopes off down the hall to his room.

There's a pause whilst Loki lingers, unsure, and Daphne bites her lip and looks at the floor.

'Loki,' she says finally, twisting her fingers awkwardly, 'look, thank you for coming back for me.'

'I said I would,' the God says, 'did you doubt me?'

Daphne is silent for a few seconds before replying.

'I haven't yet found many people who will do something good without wanting a return for it,' she says at last.

'So you think I want something?' Loki smiles, a dark twist of humour on his pale face.

Daphne doesn't say anything.

'Consider it a favour,' he says at last, 'one that I will call in if I have need of you.'

She nods.

'Fair enough. Goodnight, Loki.'

She walks off to her room; he sees her go in, and hears the click of a lock a second later.

'Goodnight, Daphne,' he murmurs, and heads off to his own room.

* * *

A/N: WOW. I've never had that kind of reaction to anything before! Thank you so much for all the encouragement and constructive criticism in the reviews, and thank you to to everyone who favourited, followed, reviewed and read - you've been incredible, and I will try my best to live up to your expectations!

A couple of things came up:

The reason why they didn't Apparate from the cell is mainly because Harry wasn't really thinking straight, and Daphne (as is alluded to) has tried it, and been caught within 20 minutes of leaving (due to the tracker that she didn't recognise before she had her wand) so has just given up.

Also it made my story kind of lame if they could just Apparate out, so...

I'm really sorry if you don't like to way I write Harry - I've tried to make him a little more on it in this chapter, but I think that's just how he sounds in my head!

Also, little confession - I'm not very good at regular updates, or long chapters (this kind of length is probably normal), but I know where this story is going, so it will not be abandoned, and I apologise in advance for the inevitable waits between updates. I promise this is my first priority after work, and I will try my hardest to update frequently.

Stella x


	3. Chapter 3

'Harry? Harry, can you hear me?'

'Harry, can you come to the Floo?'

'Harry?'

'Harry, are you even there?'

'HARRY!'

oOo

'I do not like the beds here,' announces Loki, 'this place is inferior.'

'Oh, stop complaining,' Harry grumbles, munching on some toast, 'it's clean, and warm, and the people don't ask questions. I know it's not the Ritz, but it'll do for now.'

Loki snorts, but chooses not to continue, poking at his poached egg suspiciously.

'Merlin's sake, it's just an egg,' gripes Harry, slathering honey on his third piece of toast, 'either eat it or don't, but don't keep giving it the evil eye like it's about to leap up and attack you.'

'Morning, boys!' sings Daphne as she pulls up a chair at their table, 'how did we all sleep?'

Harry makes an indistinct noise, mouth still full of toast, and Loki merely glowers at his egg.

'Gosh, aren't we a cheerful bunch,' sighs Daphne, 'Right, let me grab some breakfast, then we can start planning.'

When Daphne comes back, coffee in one hand and sugary pastries in the other, Harry has used most of the honey jar on his fourth piece of toast, and Loki has finally overcome his suspicion of the egg. They eat in silence for a few minutes, and then Daphne calls their meeting to order with a light tap of steel teaspoon on china coffee mug.

'Okay, so the way I see it, we have several problems,' she says, topping off her mug with slightly stewed instant coffee, 'the main ones being the lack of Harry's wand and the lack of that special runic cube he brought through.'

'Also the fact that we're currently Undesirables Nos. 1, 2, and 3,' mutters Harry.

'Well, at least you have practice in that area,' says Daphne cheerfully, and Harry rolls his eyes.

'Very funny, Greengrass,' he sighs.

'I don't understand,' frowns Loki.

'Wizard joke,' supplies Harry, 'let's just say this isn't the first time I've been top of a wanted list.'

Loki's lip curls.

'Oh, so I have ended up running around with a _criminal_ wizard,' he snaps, 'how excellent.'

'The way I hear it, you've had your fair share of being hunted by S.H.I.E.L.D.,' Daphne counters, and Loki goes white, gripping the cutlery so hard Harry wonders if he might actually snap the metal. He swears the temperature of the room drops by several degrees.

'What do you know about what I've done,' he hisses, and Daphne realises she's crossed a line, holding her hands up in a gesture of peace.

'I didn't mean anything by it,' she placates, 'it was just an observation.'

Ice starts frosting up Loki's water glass.

'How do you know so much stuff about the world here anyway?' asks Harry, trying to steer the conversation in a direction that does not involve catching frostbite. 'I thought you'd just been stuck in a cell for the past three years or so.'

'Yeah,' agrees Daphne, 'but there was this incident a while back – around the time I met Loki, actually – when they thought he was intent on destroying the world or something, and they questioned me to see if I was in league with him.'

Harry nods in comprehension.

'They also tried this thing where they would give me information and expect some in return,' she continues, 'like this "equal sharing" technique or whatever. That didn't work either,' she adds in satisfaction, draining her coffee mug, 'but I did learn a bit about the world outside. It's all horrendously out of date now, I'd expect.'

'Well,' says Harry thoughtfully, 'a good friend of mine always tells me that no knowledge is ever wasted.'

'Is that Granger?' asks Daphne interestedly, 'what's she doing nowadays anyway?'

'Head of MLE,' says Harry absentmindedly, 'Ron's Head Auror. They're a great team, got a ton of reforms going on, it's brilliant.'

'I'd have pegged you for Head of the Aurors, Mr Dark-Lord-Slayer,' remarks Daphne.

Harry shakes his head.

'Too much paperwork,' he grins.

'As lovely as this catch-up undoubtedly is,' begins Loki, looking bored, 'don't we have some kind of plan to be making?'

Daphne blushes.

'Yeah, sorry. Right, um, so...' she trails off. Loki heaves a long-suffering sigh but the room is back to its normal temperature, so Harry doesn't think he's too irritated.

'Well, you clearly need your... wand,' he says in Harry's direction, 'and this cube-thing to get home, which, I presume, is what you want to do?'

When both of them nod, he continues talking, steepling his fingers and leaning forward. He's reminding Harry more and more of Malfoy. Possibly with a bit of Snape in there too. No wonder Daphne likes him. Merlin, she's currently looking at him like he's hung not just the moon, but most of the stars and half the planets too. He's not said anything _that_ great. Oh wait, they're planning.

'... We'll Apparate in, of course,' Daphne muses, 'although they might have moved Harry's stuff after our escape—'

'I'd say almost certainly,' interjects Loki.

'—so we'll have to do a bit of exploring,' continues Daphne. She turns to Loki.

'How well do you know their ship?'

'Assuming they're still on the ship,' interrupts Harry, 'it looked pretty bashed up when we were leaving.'

Loki waves his hand airily, batting away the problem with a flick of his fingers.

'They will have fixed it,' he dismisses, 'they have a great mastery of technology.'

Daphne has produced parchment, quill and ink, and is attempting to sketch what little she knows of the ship into some semblance of a map. Loki leans over her.

'That corridor intersects there – no, there,' he says, breath rustling her hair slightly as he points to the corridor on the parchment.

'Right,' she mutters, correcting it with an ugly jerk of her quill.

'Is that really the best you can do?' he asks. 'It looks hideous.'

Daphne turns to snap at him, and finds him much closer than she expected. Their noses are almost touching, and she can see every detail of his face. He's good-looking, she notes, but then he is a god. He raises an eyebrow, and she realises that she's just been staring at him for the past few minutes. She ducks her head to hide her blush, and grabs her wand to magically correct the ugly corridor intersection.

Half an hour later, Daphne throws down her quill. Harry has been no help at all, but Loki has managed to see far more of the ship than her, despite his shorter stay, and between them they've managed to cobble together something approaching a half-decent map.

'Spell that thing,' Harry says, jerking his head in the direction of the map, 'you'll want to make sure it's impervious to water, won't tear, that kind of stuff.'

'Good idea,' Daphne nods, already on it.

'Right,' and Harry stretches out, leaning back on two legs of his chair, 'so, we have a map, an aim... we just need a strategy.'

'Get in, get the stuff, get out,' jokes Daphne. Harry smiles a little.

'You're actually on the right lines,' he admits, 'it never pays to overthink these things. We could afford to go into a bit more detail though,' he adds, smile widening. Daphne grins back.

'So, Mr Auror, what would you suggest?' she asks, pushing the now-spelled-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life parchment over to him.

'I can do strategy,' grumbles Loki under his breath.

Daphne pats him on the arm.

'Hush now dear, Harry's working.'

Loki mutters something under his breath, but does eventually shut up.

'Okay...' murmurs Harry, 'so, my stuff could be in the evidence room, the control room, maybe the labs if they're that serious about trying to figure out what we are... It's almost certainly under some kind of guard too,' he adds, looking up. 'This isn't going to be easy.'

'Oh joy,' sighs Daphne.

'So,' Harry continues, ignoring Daphne, 'what I'm thinking is, we Apparate in _here_...'

oOo

 _'Hi, you've reached Harry Potter's voicemail. Please leave a message and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Unless you're calling from the Daily Prophet, in which case kindly sod off. '_

'Harry, it's Hermione here. We've tried your Floo, we can't get hold of you and we're a bit worried about where you are. Could you please let us know you're alright? Just give me a call or something. Okay, bye.'

oOo

'Can someone get him to stop pacing? It's really distracting.'

Thor glares at Stark's back.

'It doesn't take much, then, to distract your tiny mortal minds,' he sneers, and Stark turns round and smirks.

'And yet this tiny brain is doing far more to help the world not die than all your hammer waving tricks put together—'

'ENOUGH!'

'Jeez, Cap, inside voice,' mutters Stark. Very, very quietly. Banner hears him though, and he suppresses a smile, focusing on the microscope in front of him.

Steve gives up in disgust, and walks out, muttering something highly uncomplimentary under his breath. Not swearing though, not from the mighty Capsicle.

He's replaced by Fury not five minutes later, with Natasha and Barton trailing behind him.

'Well?' he demands.

'Oh, hey Director,' greets Tony cheerfully, 'nice to see you too. Great weather we're having, right?'

'Cut the crap, Stark, what have you found?'

'Not much,' murmurs Banner, focused on the particles of black powder under his lens.

Tony throws him an exasperated look.

'It's been over eight hours,' comments Natasha.

'Well, there's only a limited amount you can do when that stick thing there makes all your machines go haywire,' Stark shoots back, some of his cockiness fading as he turns to Harry's wand, lying perfectly innocently on one of the lab benches. He runs a hand through his hair.

'This may be a little more complicated that I thought it would,' he admits grudgingly.

In the corner, Thor looks momentarily smug.

'Anyone seen the Captain?' Barton asks.

'Walked out just before you arrived,' offers Banner, 'I think he got tired of Thor and Tony... bickering.'

' _Bickering?!_ '

'Why do you want him?'

'We think we've got a lead on the wizards. We'll need you too, Thor,' adds Fury, 'Loki's with them.'

Thor scowls.

'Your brother certainly can pick them,' remarks Stark, almost cheerfully. Thor doesn't respond.

'Barton, find Rogers. Thor, control room with me.' Fury turns to go, then stops at the door.

'Gentlemen,' he says, eyeing Stark and Banner, 'I need hardly remind you how important it is to have anything, _anything,_ on these wizards.'

'Yup, got it,' mutters Stark, attention on his computer. Banner just nods.

Fury jerks his head at Barton, who heads off to locate Steve. Captain America successfully found punching things in the training rooms, Barton takes him back to the bridge to join the Take-Down-The-Wizards meeting.

"A lead" turns out to be a couple of grainy CCTV pictures of a mismatched trio appearing in the same street Barton and his team had lost the male wizard (Harry) about thirty minutes later. Another shot sees them entering a hotel a short walk from there.

'This is where we believe they're hiding out. As you can see, we've got strong evidence that either Loki is aiding them, or they are aiding Loki. Neither option is good.' Fury paces back and forth, exuding tension.

'Agent Barton, I want you on the roof. You're going to be the eyes of this thing. They so much as pick their noses, I want to know.'

'Got it, sir.'

'Agent Romanov, you'll need to—'

But just quite what Natasha needs to do, they will never find out. Agent Hill's voice comes over the intercoms, interrupting Fury's orders.

'Sir, we have a breach on the starboard hull, repeat, there is a breach on the starboard hull. All operatives to positions.'

'Hill,' barks Fury, 'who has breached the hull? Who the hell is responsible?!'

'Hello Director,' comes a brisk male voice, echoing through the ship, 'I believe you've got some of my things.'

oOo

 _Bring. Bring._

'Hermione, it's Ron. Have you heard from Harry?'

'No, nothing yet. I guess he's not turned up to work then?'

'No, his office is empty, his shift card's not been stamped... I mean, it looks like he didn't even clock out yesterday.'

'Merlin... Look, you floo Grimmauld Place again, see if you can't get anything out of Kreacher or Dobby. I'll try his phone and check the Department for any sightings.'

'Should I try the Missing Persons list?'

'Hmm... If you can be discreet, yes, but otherwise, no. We don't want this getting back to the Prophet, Parkinson would have field day.'

'We'll have to report this sooner or later, you know.'

'Yes, thank you Ron, I am aware of the procedures _that I brought in._ '

'Bloody hell, I hope he's okay.'

'If he's gone and got himself killed, I'm hexing his balls off.'

'That sounds fair. Ah, love, I've got to go, talk to you later, yeah?'

'Sure, bye.'

'Bye.'

 _Click._

* * *

A/N: Third chapter! I have been writing like a manic, and luckily my muse has not deserted me yet... Thank you all for the support through the follows, favourites and especially reviews - rest assured that I treasure each one, I love hearing your views so please keep it up! Stella x


	4. Chapter 4

Daphne moves through the corridors, Disillusionment Charm firmly in place, and curses as she hears Potter's voice echo throughout the ship, quickening her pace. She nearly crashes into a small man with curly light brown hair. Damn, Loki really is good at this whole disguise thing. Perks of being the trickster god, she guesses.

'Finally,' he hisses, 'you took your time.'

Daphne rolls her eyes, then realises that Loki can't actually see her.

'Nice hair,' she replies instead, and Loki scowls. He sets a brisk pace along and she has to hurry to keep up. Harry is still taunting Fury over the intercoms, keeping the attention of most S.H.I.E.L.D. agents firmly on the right side of the ship, giving them time to investigate the labs, whilst he rummages through the evidence room. If they're luck, Fury might even vacate the control room on the bridge, and they could have a quick peek in there too, although Harry has warned them not to count on it, 'and for the love of Merlin, don't take stupid risks,' he'd added, 'it's far more important for us to be alive than for us to have my stuff.'

Daphne had been surprised at such a sentiment from the Gryffindor Golden Boy, but she supposed that was what five years of decent Auror training did to a person.

'Labs on the left,' mutters Loki, subtly glancing at the map, and Daphne nods.

'Got it. Homenum Revelio,' she whispers and Loki shudders as he feels the unfamiliar swoop of her magic rushing over him.

'We've got three inside – at least one of them's got to be a guard of some kind,' Daphne reports.

Loki nods, and knocks on the door.

'What are you doing?' hisses Daphne, 'this was _not_ part of the plan!'

'Plans were made to be disregarded,' Loki replies, mouth quirking in a self-satisfied smirk that looks oddly out-of-place on the nervous face of the young man he's pretending to be.

 _Sweet Merlin_ , thinks Daphne with mounting dread, _we're all going to die_.

The door opens to show a pretty red-head with eyes of steel.

'I was sent by Hill to be additional back-up,' Loki says, just the right amount of deference to the woman in his tone, as Daphne slips in, unseen, through the door. She can't deny, he's a very good actor, but there's no way the woman will fall for it.

She has reckoned without the persuasion of his silver tongue.

The woman totally falls for it, and Loki is stationed in the lab within a matter of minutes. The other two people in here – two men – don't look like agents, but Loki is eyeing them in a way that suggests they are still a threat. But Daphne has spotted Harry's wand in the corner. She sidles over and slips it beneath her cloak, safely Disillusioned. It looks like they were right about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s paranoia – they've got these two detective-types working on their stuff even when the rest of the ship is on lockdown. She sees a couple of Decoy Detonators lying innocently on one of the benches. They in themselves are not vital, but if she can set one off, she's got a better chance of getting the man with the fancy facial hair away from the runic cube. As silently as possible, she tiptoes over to the bench, stretches out a hand...

And chaos erupts.

Loki looks thrilled.

The Detonators scurry around the lab, honking for all they're worth, scaring the life out of all three S.H.I.E.L.D. employees and enabling Daphne to reach out and grab the cube from underneath the nose of Fancy Facial Hair, who seems torn between standing on his chair and shrieking and trying to catch one of the things.

'PULL OUT!' she hollers above the chaos, and Loki makes a run for the door. Daphne dashes out and down the corridor, feeling elated and terrified and a little bit sick. How Potter managed to spend most of his Hogwarts time like this, she cannot fathom. She risks a look over her shoulder, and sees the red-head running after her.

'I have no visual!' she's shouting into an earpiece, 'they're too fast! You,' she turns to point at Loki, 'continue pursuit up this corridor! Do not engage unless absolutely necessary!'

Her voice trails out as she takes off in the opposite direction, and Loki can't help but laugh, slightly breathless, that it has all managed to work so well.

'Daphne?' he calls.

'Here,' she says, cancelling the charm, and wrinkling her nose at the nasty feeling of something cold tricking down her back. Loki grins, growing about a foot, hair darkening and straightening.

'Shall we return?' he asks.

'Sounds good,' Daphne agree, grinning just as manically as he is.

The _crack_ bounces off the walls of the corridor as the god and the witch vanish.

oOo

Harry reappears in Daphne's room just as she's starting to get worried, scowling.

'Couldn't find my wand,' he snaps, looking ready for a full-on sulk.

'Well, I guess it's lucky we did,' smirks Daphne, and Harry's whole face lights up. He hums in contentment as he grasps hold of the holly wood and swishes it down in a trail of red and gold sparks.

'Merlin, you really are Gryffindor to the core, aren't you?' sighs Daphne, rolling her eyes. Harry looks like he's not sure if it's an insult or a compliment. Loki just looks clueless and irritated.

'We have your cube as well,' he informs Harry, not moving from his position on the sofa.

'We can go home!' he says excitedly, grinning at Daphne, who tries to smile back with equal enthusiasm. Loki's eyes narrow.

'What is wrong?' he demands, twisting to stare intently at her. Daphne shifts uncomfortably.

'Nothing,' she lies. Loki snorts derisively.

'You are a pathetic liar,' he informs her.

'Well, forgive me for not living up to the standards of the freaking _God of Liars_ ,' snarks Daphne, with very little real heat.

Harry is frowning, looking a bit disconcerted.

'Don't you want to go home?' he asks unsurely and Daphne bites her lip, fingers twisting together as they seem to do when she's nervous.

'It's... complicated,' she tries. Loki raises an eyebrow.

'You family cannot be more complicated than mine,' he assures her, and Daphne nearly laughs out loud at the thought of her parents and sister being compared to Norse Gods.

'I've just... I've been away for a very long time,' she explains, 'and I'm not sure how easy it will be—I mean, how I could... slip back into being normal, I guess. It'll be hard. Don't get me wrong,' she hurries on, seeing Harry's expression, 'I love them, and I miss them, but... they don't need me anymore, and I guess I don't really need them either. It's been a long time,' she finishes quietly, looking at the carpet. She can feel Harry's disapproval from over here.

'You are not certain of your welcome, then,' murmurs Loki, and Daphne looks a little startled.

'Yeah, I suppose you could say that. I don't think anyone really misses me there, apart from my family, of course.'

'I will mourn your absence from this world,' Loki tells her seriously, and Daphne blinks in surprise. Then she smiles slightly, a sweet little smile that transforms her from just a pretty girl into a true beauty.

'I'll miss you too,' she says, still with that smile that makes him feel very strange inside. Harry coughs in the corner. He's staring at the ceiling, looking so awkward it hurts.

'Are you coming h- back, then, or will you stay?' he asks.

Daphne shrugs slightly, losing the smile, and Loki glares at Harry, because it's entirely his fault that Daphne isn't smiling any more, although he's not too sure why he cares so vehemently.

'I guess so,' she says, 'there's not much for me in either world, but at least back there I'm not being hunted down like some kind of animal.'

Harry looks a little relieved.

'Cool,' he says. 'So,' he continues much more cheerfully, 'do you have any idea how this thing works?' He gestures to the cube and Daphne represses the urge to smack her hand to her forehead. Or possibly just to smack Potter and have done with it.

oOo

'Head Auror's office.'

'Hi, Marcella, it's Hermione Granger here. Could I have a quick word with Ron?'

'I'm afraid he's not here at the moment. Could I take a message?'

'Um... yeah, if you tell him that I've got nothing so far, but that he should call me back as soon as possible, that would be great.'

'No problem. Goodbye, Madam Granger.'

'Bye, Marcella.'

 _Click._

oOo

'They broke into our base,' cries Steve, 'how are they not hostile?!'

'We did have their stuff,' reminds Stark, poking at a bundle of wires poking out of one of his many machines, 'and besides, everything is working much better now that their fancy wand is gone.'

'Oh yeah, because that is totally our main concern,' snaps Steve. Tony opens his mouth to snap back an undoubtedly brilliant retort, and Bruce's phone goes off. He shoots them an apologetic look, and moves off into a corner to take the call.

'It _is_ a concern when they can disable all our tech with a stick,' Tony argues, and Steve makes an expression surprisingly close to a sneer.

'Says something for all you precious tech, then, doesn't it?' he remarks, and Tony bristles at the smug undertones to his voice, wanting to punch him right in the-

'That was Fury,' says Banner, coming back, 'we've got a team meeting.'

Tony's face shows exactly what he thinks of _that_ , but he shows up anyway. Turns out the wizards are still stuck in that London hotel, and Fury wants them.

'To talk to?' questions Tony. Fury shakes his head slowly.

'We had that girl for over two years. She didn't want to cooperate. Now they've attacked our Headquarters, Stark. I think that makes them hostile.'

Steve shoots an I-told-you-so look at Tony, who ignores him.

'They only broke in because we had their stuff,' he points out, 'I'd have done the same.'

'We can't afford to take chances,' Fury snaps. Tony looks stubborn. Banner looks like he would rather be anywhere than here.

'Loki will be dealt with on Asgard,' says Thor. It's not a question. Fury nods.

'If you can bring them in alive, do. If you can't...' Fury doesn't need to finish.

'Any questions?'

'Uh, yes,' says Tony, 'I have one.'

Banner can see a little part of Fury die inside.

'Stark.'

'I don't want to attack these guys. They seem cool.'

'That is not a question,' points out Thor.

'Okay,' says Tony agreeably. 'Why are we attacking these guys? They seem cool.'

'Depends how you define "cool",' mutters Steve, 'if "cool" means allying with one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most wanted enemies and breaking into their supposedly super-secure Headquarters, then yeah, sure, they're super cool.'

Tony glares at him.

'Bruce, back me up here.'

Bruce hesitates. Tony fixes him with injured, puppy-dog eyes.

Bruce caves.

'It does seem a little unfair,' he mumbles, and Tony turns to Fury.

'You see? Even the Hulk thinks you're overreacting.'

Bruce winces.

'Fine,' says Fury, and Tony beams.

'Captain, you, Agents Romanov and Barton, and Thor are going to London. Stark, Banner, you're staying here.'

The reaction to _that_ is completely predictable. Tony is outraged, Steve businesslike, the two agents silent as ever. Thor just looks a little confused and frankly quite tired of the mortals arguing.

'Shouldn't we be going?'' mutters Clint to Natasha, 'It's going to take us hours to get to London and we don't really have that kind of time.'

Natasha just gives him a very expressive look.

'Don't interrupt the kids when they're arguing,' she whispers back, and Clint has to hastily stifle his giggles as Fury glares over at them.

'That is final, Stark!' he shouts, and Natasha frowns as Stark backs down and agrees. Tony _never_ backs down. She's still frowning as they board the jet ten minutes later, Steve suited up and Thor cradling his hammer. Clint throws her a glance, but she shakes her head minutely, and he lets it drop. Whatever Stark is up to, she has no doubt that they will find out soon enough.

oOo

'Ron!'

'Hermione, I got your message.'

'Anything?'

'No. I'm so sorry.'

'It's not your fault. Merlin, I just hope he's okay.'

'You know Harry, he always lands on his feet. He'll be fine. He's probably just... taken an impromptu holiday or something.'

'Harry? Taken a _holiday_?'

'Look, I don't know, but I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for it all.'

'There'd better bloody be.'

'Madam Granger, your meeting starts in five minutes.'

'Right, thanks. Got to run, dinner at eight?'

'Sure.'

* * *

A/N: Here we go! Updates may be a little less frequent in the next few weeks, so advance apologies for that. Thank you, as ever, to everyone who followed, favourited and reviewed, and just a very gentle reminder that this story is a bit of fun, not anything serious! I am well aware that there are some holes and I am working very hard to address those. Stella x


	5. Chapter 5

Right after the rest of the Avengers have left on their swanky fighter jet, all ready to unleash hell on some probably-at-least-vaguely-innocent wizards and one really-not-innocent-at-all Norse God, Director Fury shuts them in the lab with what remains of their kit to "continue playing". He leaves shortly after, not without stationing a couple of agents outside, and Banner can almost feel his heart sinking as Tony turns to him, grinning wildly.

'I know I'm going to regret asking,' he begins, 'but what's the plan?'

'Why would you think I have a plan?' replies Tony, all wide-eyed innocence. Banner sighs. He was right; he's already regretting asking.

Fifteen minutes later, the lab is empty, the guards unconscious, and Tony and Bruce are on a Stark jet, heading straight for London.

'Drink?' asks Tony, swiping a bottle of something lethal from the bar. Brue declines. Tony shrugs and takes a swig, not even bothering with a glass. Bruce sighs and goes back to staring out of the window at the blanket of white cloud beneath them, waiting. Evening comes before they land, the sun streaming through the glass and making Bruce screw up his face at the glare. He doesn't look away though. A slightly drunk Tony hasn't moved from his seat for the whole journey, squinting at his laptop with fingers flying over the keys. Bruce has a strong suspicion he's hacked into the S.H.I.E.L.D. database again. The jet touches down at a small airfield a few hours out of London, and Tony doesn't speak to Bruce until they've been on the road for over an hour, ignoring every single one of Bruce's (admittedly few) questions. Bruce is starting to wonder (worry) if Tony's whole plan is just going to consist of the Hulk, when the silence is broken by a businesslike Stark turning to him and raising his eyebrows expectantly. Bruce sighs.

'What?'

'Well, Bruce, I'm very glad you asked me that. It's time to make our super awesome plan to save the wizards!'

'Oh.'

'I am not feeling your enthusiasm.'

'Yay,' says Bruce half-heartedly.

Tony beams.

oOo

Harry takes off after staring at the glowing cube for thirty minutes and gaining nothing more than a headache. A couple of spells later and a blonde, brown-eyed, 40-year-old man is leaving the hotel in Janus Street, walking down to the park. The grass under his feet is thin, the ground muddy, and the trees are shedding their leaves, but the air is a little clearer here, the noise of the traffic a little more subdued, and Harry can breathe easily, safe in the knowledge that no one will recognise him out here. His mind wanders as he strolls over the railway bridge and past a couple of boys kicking a ball around, their crumpled jumpers lying on the ground for goalposts. Inevitably his thoughts come back to the cube, and it's in the middle of trying to remember whether he'd turned it left _before_ pressing Sowilo that the boys' ball comes sailing over straight towards his head. Years of Auror conditioning makes avoiding random projectiles almost second nature and he waves away the apologies and thanks that come as he throws it back in the general direction of the kids. He wonders if Dudley and his friends ever played like that, and then snorts as he tries to imagine it.

He wonders what ever happened to Dudley Dursley. Whether he has a job, a wife, children of his own. Harry wonders about trying to contact him when he gets home, and then realises that he doesn't care enough.

Best to let sleeping dragons lie.

The sun is setting by the time he starts to think about heading back. The boys are long gone as he passes their makeshift pitch, and the common is empty apart from some dog walkers. Ron and Hermione had been talking about getting a dog. They were probably freaking out about where he was, Harry realises, and he suddenly feels horribly guilty that he's causing them all this grief, yet again, because he was too stupid and stubborn to let well alone. It's been two days, by his reckoning, although it feels like it could have been two years, so much has happened. Hopefully Daphne will have had more luck with the cube than him, and Loki's apparently a Norse God – this runic stuff should be second nature to him, if he's all he claims to be. Harry really doesn't know about him; his speech and mannerisms are unfamiliar and his magic is like nothing Harry has ever seen, and that puts him on edge. He's not to be trusted, but he's stuck with them, and the question of _why_ bothers Harry more than he cares to admit. He swings into a small corner shop and buys a couple packets of biscuits and some cans of coke for Daphne and Loki. Concern for the fact that they've been working all afternoon, yes, but also a wish to see the look on their faces as he presents them with the cans. He remembers the first time Ron had a fizzy drink, how it had spurted everywhere and how the expression on Ron's face had made Hermione laugh so hard she'd gone completely silent. The memory makes him smile as he walks through the reception and up to Daphne's room, cancelling the charms as he goes.

oOo

Loki watches Daphne pace in front of the window from his position sprawled across the little sofa in her room. Even looking at her being stressed is giving him a headache. She's turning their runic cube over and over in her hands, squinting at it in the dying light.

'Stop. Pacing,' he grinds out, and she glances over at him, a vaguely apologetic expression on her face.

'Sorry,' she offers, 'I'm thinking.'

Loki sighs.

'You can think just as well sitting down,' he replies, although it comes out far less biting than he intends it to. Daphne gives him a rueful grin.

'I actually can't,' she confesses, and Loki suppresses a groan. Daphne laughs, still walking up and down the length of the room.

'I know, I'm sorry.'

With what seems like a huge effort, she stops pacing, and conjures a chair to slump down in.

'Better?' she asks, smiling slightly.

'Much. Thank you.'

'You're welcome.'

It's at this point that Harry strolls in, carrying a plastic bag which contains some biscuits and some weird metal cylinders. Daphne forgets the cube for a second as she turns her attention to examining the strange cans, munching on her second biscuit as she does so. They look very familiar, but she can't think where she's seen them before.

'What are these… things?'

She flicks her gaze up to see Loki regarding the biscuits and cans with a mixture of wariness and disgust. Harry is valiantly trying to hide his smirk.

'No biscuits on Asgard then?' he says casually, lips twitching.

'This is _food?_ '

Harry catches Daphne's eye and she stifles a giggle. He starts to laugh, but then hastily turns it into a violent coughing fit as Loki turns round to glare at him.

'I do not care for your mortal sustenance,' he announces haughtily, sitting back into the sofa and crossing his arms, his expression one of total superiority.

Daphne chucks a biscuit at him.

Harry takes one look at Loki's appalled face and cracks up, snorting into his—Coca Cola! That's what the cans are! And she'd seen them in Muggle Studies, when Professor Burbage (poor Professor Burbage) brought them in. They were rather nice, she thinks, and carefully takes one, remembering the strict instructions _not_ to shake them. Harry raises an eyebrow at her, and she imitates Loki's superior look, carefully opening the can without spilling a drop. Harry looks rather disappointed, and her smug feeling just increases.

'Have you guys managed to get any further with that thing?' Harry asks, gesturing to the cube languishing on a corner table. Daphne grimaces.

'Not really. Turns out that all our runes are very different from his,' and she jerks her head in the direction of the sulking Norse god, 'so all we've got to rely on is my Runes NEWT.'

'And?'

'And luckily for you, I got an O. There's a sequence of turns and tracing that's pretty complex, but does explain how you managed to get here by just fiddling with it and generally being an idiot.'

'Hey!'

'Oh, don't pretend you weren't. And stop sulking. Both of you,' she adds sternly in Loki's direction.

'I am not sulking,' he seethes, and Daphne can't stop herself from grinning at him.

'Oh, you so are.'

'I am not.'

'Are too.'

'Am not!'

'Are—'

'If you've quite finished,' interrupts Harry, with that vaguely uncomfortable look that seems to be turning into his default facial expression, 'can we get on with what Daphne's found out?'

'Well, that was sort of it, actually.'

Harry's face falls.

'It's really complicated,' says Daphne defensively, 'and I didn't see you trying to help with anything.'

Harry has the grace to look ashamed. Loki just looks smug, _again_ , and Daphne gets the feeling that he really doesn't like Harry for some reason.

'And all you did was complain,' she continues in his direction, '"I'm bored, stop pacing, I've got a headache…" You're even worse than Harry! If you're bored, why don't you just go back to your fancy god world?'

'Believe me, Midgardian Witch, were it that simple I would be long gone,' Loki snarls, and Daphne snaps.

'Well, no one here is stopping you!' she shouts, and the temperature of the room drops sharply. Loki stands, and ice starts appearing on the windows. A little voice in Daphne's head is screaming _this is very bad, very very bad, oh no, don't do it_ , but it's only a murmur, and very easily ignored.

'I don't know why you're even hanging around here! There's nothing for you to gain, no gold for you to steal, no people for you to—'

'DO NOT TALK SO LIGHTLY ABOUT MATTERS YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND!'

'Oh, of course, I'm just a _foolish mortal girl_ , how could I _possibly_ understand the matters of the GREAT ASGARDIAN GODS—'

'Um, guys?'

'SHUT UP POTTER!'

'There are some people—'

'DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A _FU_ -'

' _They look like .E.L.D._ '

Daphne and Loki glance at each other, negotiate an unspoken truce, and move simultaneously to the window. There, on the street, in full battle regalia, are at least ten agents, plus some men in weird costumes.

'The Avengers,' mutters Loki in a tone of complete loathing. 'They've come for us.'

Oh, for _Merlin's sake…_

* * *

A/N: Oh my Lord, she's alive and updating... I'm so sorry for the wait! Hopefully it was worth it, and I will do my best not to disappear again! Thank you for all the lovely reviews, they mean so much to me. Stella x


	6. Chapter 6

'They're still in the hotel?' questions Steve, and Fury assents through the earpiece.

'Well, that's stupid of them,' says Natasha, 'but good for us.'

'We still have to get to London,' reminds Steve over the roar of the jet, 'that's a good five hours away. They could move anywhere in that time.'

'I should've just stayed there in the first place,' mutters Barton irritably, too low for anyone but Natasha to hear, and she grips his hand silently, just for a second, before letting go.

'Fury has eyes all over that place,' says Steve unconcernedly, missing the entire exchange between them, 'if they move, we know.'

'Cameras can be hacked,' reminds Natasha, 'and that witch clearly knows some kind of vanishing trick, as well as all Loki's equally-freaky-but-slightly-different magic tricks.'

They all glance at Thor at this, as if hoping that he will suddenly start spouting all Loki's secrets, but Thor is glued to a phone that Tony gave him, talking to Jane Foster, voice a little too low to be anything more than an incomprehensible murmur under the noise of the engines. They pass the rest of the ride in much the same fashion – there are sporadic outbreaks of conversation, but most of them are too keyed up to talk much. Thor spends nearly the entire trip on the phone, and Barton falls asleep halfway across the Atlantic, waking at a sharp prod in the ribs from Natasha as they land.

'Still in the hotel?' asks Steve.

Fury confirms it in their ears, as a black car rolls up the airfield to take them the final distance to the wizards. They won't slip away this time, Barton tells himself, you're better than that. We're all better than that.

oOo

Intimidation. Show them their capabilities, give them a chance to surrender without any violence, and, if they refuse, unleash hell.

A simple strategy, but sometimes the simplest things are the best. In this case, where they outnumber the wizards by almost three-to-one, Natasha fully expects them to surrender immediately. Loki might put up a bit of a fight, but they had Thor on hand if things got a bit messy. The wizards seemed to favour covert action over a full-blown battle – Natasha doubted any of them had ever seen proper conflict in their lives. This should be easy.

oOo

'How did they find us?' breathes Daphne, staring out at the large group of agents that outnumbers them by at least three to one.

Harry stares at her.

'Does that really matter? Can we not maybe focus on the immediate problem which is that they're all ready to attack us?!'

'Are they actually going to attack us, or just stand outside looking scary and hope we give in? Why are they attacking us anyway?'

'You are with me,' Loki says simply, and Harry thinks of how much safer he'd felt the last time someone said that to him.

'Also we broke into S.H.I.E.L.D.,' he adds helpfully.

'That is true,' agrees Loki. 'Oh, look,' he says, peering out of the window, 'they've brought my brother. How nice that he gets an outing.'

'Your brother…' Harry trails off, not sure if he really wants to know.

'Thor. Norse god of thunder,' Daphne supplies.

'Oh fabulous. That's… wow, that's just great.'

Loki scoffs.

'He is only interested in me. It is unlikely he will attack you.'

'Great,' mutters Harry, 'I feel so much better now.' He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair.

'Right,' he says briskly, 'grab your stuff, everyone, and let's get out of here. Anyone got a preferred location?'

Daphne blinks.

'What?'

Harry looks at her like she's being deliberately dense.

'Well, you're not suggesting we actually stay and fight them, are you, when we can just Apparate away?'

'Golden Boy running from a fight?' asks Daphne, but there's more incredulity than malice in it. Harry just rolls his eyes.

'Get your stuff, Greengrass. How do you feel about the Lake District?'

'I've heard it's very beautiful,' remarks Daphne, gathering loose bits of parchment and quills to wrap up in her cloak. Harry nods.

'I've heard it's very remote and hard to navigate,' he responds cheerfully, 'should be fun.'

'So we are _not_ fighting?' asks Loki, looking almost disappointed.

'Nope,' replies Harry happily.

'Oh.'

oOo

Barton come up beside Natasha, bow in hand.

'You gonna announce us?'

Natasha grins without mirth.

'Loki, we have you and your two companions surrounded,' she shouts, eyes fixed on the door to the hotel, voice easily carrying in the still air.

'If you surrender now, you will not be harmed. Come out with all your weapons, and we will be lenient. If you refuse, we will be forced to attack, and we will not take prisoners. You have five minutes.'

'Nice,' Barton murmurs, and Natasha smiles again.

Inside the hotel, Daphne looks mildly alarmed. Harry and Loki are both wearing the identical, unruffled expressions of men who have been attacked far too many times, and are now just completely bored by the whole thing.

'Ready to go?' asks Harry, and Daphne glances over her small cloak bundle, and nods.

Harry offers one arm to her and the other to Loki, who takes it with the distaste of someone who has to touch a particularly slimy bug. A twist, a crack, and they land in the middle of a small village made up of grey slate cottages, rain plummeting down and plastering their hair to their scalps. Loki utters an oath and staggers back from Harry, waving his hand to divert the rain from around him.

'Sorry!' shouts Harry over the spatter of water on stone, giving Daphne a vaguely apologetic look as he pulls out his wand and casts an Impervious charm over them both. Daphne sighs, and rummages around for her own wand to dry herself off.

oOo

Exactly four minutes and 21 seconds later, the hotel on Janus Street is stormed by a crack team of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s finest agents. A very startled receptionist gives a shriek as three agents plus a real, live Captain America march into the lobby, and one very embarrassed guest is surprised by a svelte red-headed Russian in the middle of taking a bath. But though the team scours the hotel from top to bottom twice over, the only trace of the freaky magic people is a six-pack of Coke and some half-opened biscuit packets.

Fury is not amused.

'WELL THEY CAN'T JUST HAVE _VANISHED_!' he roars down the earpiece, and Barton winces at the volume.

Comprehension dawns on Natasha's face, and she starts swearing in Russian. Five seconds later, Barton joins her in English.

Bloody wizards. Bloody, _teleporting_ wizards can very definitely have just vanished.

Half an hour later, Fury is still yelling at them. Turns out Stark and Banner thought it would be a clever idea to follow them independently, and when they turn up outside the hotel, looking smug, Steve punches Tony so hard he cracks the helmet of his suit. Whilst Cap and Tony work off some pent-up aggression by destroying three buildings and breaking several non-vital body parts, and Barton and Natasha finish getting chewed out by Fury, Banner has borrowed Tony's laptop and is hacking into the hotel CCTV. He finds the footage with ease, but there is a minor problem in the lack of sound, so Natasha finds him squinting at the screen, trying to lip-read the grainy footage.

'Australia?' he suggests, pulling back and rubbing his eyes. Natasha sighs, and pulls the laptop over to her. Stupid cheap hotels with their stupid low-quality CCTV cameras. After ten minutes of concerted effort, all she has managed to establish is that it's definitely not Australia.

'Some kind of district?' she murmurs, replaying the footage for what must easily be the 500th time.

'Do they have districts in England?' asks Banner interestedly. Natasha shrugs.

'No idea. Look it up.'

Bruce pulls out his phone and does a quick search.

'Uh... Yeah,' he says, 'it's a kind of government thing, I think...'

Natasha spins round.

'They're trying to attack the government?!'

'Uh... I don't know... I think they might be _going_ to a district rather than attacking it... Oh look, here are some places, the Peak District, the Lake District...'

Natasha plays the footage again.

'Lake,' she says slowly, 'they're going to the Lake District.'

Banner smiles.

'Hey, that's good, well—'

'Barton, we need transport and directs,' she snaps down her earpiece, gesturing for Banner to follow, 'they're in the Lake District, and we need to be there as soon as possible. You,' she barks at a black-suited agent, 'tell the children to stop fighting and make themselves useful. Everyone to me,' she continues, striding to the lobby, 'we are _not_ failing this time.'

* * *

A/N: Happy New Year everyone... Sorry, sorry, sorry, I know, I'm a terrible person but here you go *runs away*


	7. Chapter 7

In the small kitchen of their London flat, Hermione makes her fifth cup of tea in two hours. Ron looks up at the sound of the kettle boiling (she always makes it the Muggle way, _properly_ ) but doesn't comment. It's been nearly three days since Harry's disappearance, and there has been neither hide nor hair of him. It's as if he's just vanished of the face of the earth. Only he can't have done, because that would be impossible.

Right?

oOo

Harry also has a cup of tea in front of him, but his is taken in a steamy tearoom full of hikers with muddy shoes and even muddier dogs. The waitress has plonked the most massive scone he's ever seen in his life in front of him, and he's nearly demolished it. Daphne has likewise attacked her apple pie, but no matter how hard he tries, Loki has failed to make any significant inroads into the slab of lemon meringue pie he ordered (the café's speciality, as they were cheerfully informed by a man with very cool tattoos whom Harry suspects is the owner).

What they are going to do now, he has no idea. But there are any number of hotels in the pretty little village that they could hole up in whilst Daphne figures out the cube, and they've probably got 48 hours' grace until S.H.I.E.L.D. track them down (which he has no doubt they will). Hopefully they'll be gone by then. Hopefully he'll be home, fending off Hermione's wrath for disappearing so suddenly and Ron's for being a prat with the cube in the first place.

'So,' Daphne breaks the silence, 'I guess we're finding another hotel then?'

Harry nods.

'That was what I was thinking. Then you can do your cube-thing and we can go home and you,' he looks at Loki, who's still ploughing through his pie, 'you can… do whatever it is Norse gods do…'

Loki makes no response. Perhaps he is annoyed, angry at being left behind; or perhaps his mouth is just too full of lemon and meringue and pastry. Given the almost painful sound of him swallowing, Harry suspects the latter.

It's still pouring outside, but they can't sit here forever. The café is showing signs of shutting up, cakes cleared from counters and somehow they have become among the last few people left.

'We should make a move,' remarks Daphne, clearly coming to the same conclusion. Loki rises and slaps three twenties down on the table – far more than the food could ever have cost, but Harry can't be arsed to fight with him about it. The tearoom could probably use the money anyhow.

Turns out, there's a hotel on almost every corner of this village, and eventually they plump for a more modest-looking one, tucked away on the outskirts. Paying in cash raises some eyebrows, but thankfully no comments, and the darkening evening finds all three in Loki's room, Daphne fiddling with the cube and making notes on the hotel stationary, Harry pacing by the window and peering out at the headlights of the cars that whizz by, and Loki lounging on the bad, face impassive. He's barely spoken since they arrived, but now his smooth voice comes drawling across the room.

'And when exactly do you think you'll be leaving?'

Harry shrugs, and looks at Daphne. Who also merely shrugs, attention focused on the cube.

Loki sighs softly and returns to staring at the ceiling. Harry wonders what he'll do when they've gone.

There's a bang from behind him and he whirls round to find Daphne's face and upper body covered in soot.

'Merlin's saggy _arse_ ,' she hisses, making a particularly vicious mark on notepaper.

Loki snorts.

'You okay?' Harry asks.

' _Fine_ ,' she growls, 'stupid exploding rune sequence…'

Loki snorts again, and she shoots him a glare that he ignores, green eyes still staring at the ceiling like it holds all the answers he has ever wanted.

oOo

'Are we nearly—'

'SHUT UP!'

Tony sighs.

'I'm bored,' he whines petulantly, staring out of the window.

'Really,' mutters Steve under his breath, 'we'd never have guessed if you hadn't told us, thank you for sharing that _fascinating_ insight…'

Natasha hides a smirk. As a matter of fact, they're only half an hour from the Lake District area, and with Banner and half of S.H.I.E.L.D. scouring all available CCTV footage, it's only a matter of minutes before they have a more precise location. They won't make the same mistakes again. She had been stupid, to forget about that teleporting thing, but this time things would be different. Stealth. Capture and neutralise them as quickly as was humanly possible, and get them up to base before they woke up.

As if on cue, Barton's voice comes crackling over her headset.

'We think we've got a lead – I'm sending the co-ordinates over now.'

The location is about forty miles north of their current position. The helicopter adjusts direction accordingly, and Natasha sets her jaw. This is it. We've got them now.

In the van that's a good two hundred miles behind the helicopter, Banner squints at the grainy footage. It could be them. Three people, two male, one female – the heights match up, but the driving rain and umbrellas they hold obscure their faces, making it hard to be anything more than 70% sure.

Ordinarily, 70% would not be good enough for Natasha, but this has gone past the ordinary now - not that anything they got involved in was ever really "ordinary", but even by S.H.I.E.L.D. standards this was weird (and therefore dangerous). Banner's passed his information onto Barton, and left the decision as to whether to tell Natasha to him, and so he's still hunched over the screen in the back of the van, hacking cameras and peering at low-quality film that makes his head ache. He sighs, rubs his eyes, leans his head back against the wall of the van – but the vibrations as it chunters up the motorway only make his head hurt more. It's going to be a very long night.

oOo

It's a long night in the hotel as well. Harry went to bed over an hour ago, but Daphne barely noticed him go. She's used about seven sheets of the hotel notepaper and Loki's room is running out – even with her small handwriting, she'll have to invest in a notebook or something. Or just nick more paper from the other rooms.

'Are you planning to sleep at any point?' Loki's voice drifts over. Surprisingly, it is not tinged with malice, or even irritation, just a tired sort of weariness.

She casts a _tempus_ , and has to check it against the bedside clock before she believes how late it's become.

'I guess I'd better leave you in peace then,' she remarks, gathering her papers and the neat Muggle writing stick she vaguely remembers is called a pen (and much more convenient than a quill it is too).

Loki shrugs awkwardly from his position sprawled out on the bed.

'Go, stay, do what you want. Mortals need sleep, even witches,' he says, face blank.

Daphne blinks. What on earth has gotten into him? Is it that they're leaving? But she didn't think he particularly cared. She had promised him a favour in return for the breakout from S.H.I.E.L.D.; perhaps he was just annoyed he wouldn't get repaid.

Or maybe he was just being deliberately childish because he was that kind of bloody frustrating person. Anyway, he was (irritatingly) right about the whole sleep thing.

'Night,' she says, closing the door softly behind her.

'Goodnight,' Loki tells the ceiling.

oOo

Hermione has just set the kettle to boil for cup number eight when Ron decides it's time to take a stand. Five minutes and several particularly nasty curses later, he will not be touching the teabags again any time soon. He tries to tell her that he's sure Harry will be fine, but due to an unfortunate spell that he's sure George told her, his tongue has turned purple and grown about four feet, so it comes out more like, 'Ee'll e ie eriee,' to which his girlfriend gives the derisory snort it so clearly deserves.

He untangles the hexwork on his tongue as Hermione finishes off the milk in her small bucket of a mug, and repeats himself (for all the good it does). But Harry will be fine. He's always fine (heaven only knows how).

* * *

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who left such lovely reviews on the last chapter, you make me so happy! Hope you enjoy this instalment - Stella x


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